


The Starkhaven Campaign

by karavasa



Category: Dragon Age II, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Courtship, Eventual Smut, F/M, Post-DA2, Rare Pairing, Romance, Sexual Tension, Slow Build
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-07-07
Updated: 2015-02-02
Packaged: 2018-02-07 21:55:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 12,877
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1915254
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/karavasa/pseuds/karavasa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mira Cousland travels to Starkhaven to speak with its new prince, Sebastian Vael, about his time in Kirkwall. He isn't eager to rehash those memories, but it soon becomes clear that Sebastian and the Hero of Ferelden share a similar set of regrets. As Mira's search for answers leads her to far more personal questions, the two find themselves trapped between duty and desire.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

On the night before the Battle of Starkhaven, Sebastian Vael was too restless to sleep. He went over his plans again and again, staring at the maps and reports as if some key piece of information had been missed.

His forces would attack at dawn. Goran’s army had been backed against the river, so there would be no more skirmishes, no more lengthy retreats. They would surrender or they would perish. Sebastian had the numbers and the superior ground, and his troops were better trained. Goran’s foot soldiers, mostly pressed farmers with rusty swords, were deserting in droves.

Sebastian still labored over his plans, hunting out any fresh advantage. A show of overwhelming force would break the opposition, and speeding the battle’s conclusion would send a few more of his people safely home to their families. He would not spend one more life than was necessary.

A narrow form slipped into the tent from the darkness outside, but Sebastian took little notice. The runners were always coming and going, taking away his correspondence and leaving him a bite to eat or a fresh cup of wine. They knew not to disturb him while he worked. So a few moments later, the sound of a delicately cleared throat and an unfamiliar voice caught Sebastian entirely by surprise.

“Your pardon, Prince Vael, but I’d suggest tightening up that left flank.”

He glanced up, intending to deliver a gentle reprimand, but the woman who’d entered his tent was no meddling servant. She wore light, skirted armor of telltale gray and blue, cut close enough to her curves to look custom. Her long, dark hair was tied up in a practical set of braids. She had high cheekbones and a bluntly angled jaw, a combination that he’d refer to as striking more than beautiful.

“Warden,” he acknowledged her with a nod. “You’re most welcome in my camp, though I am too busy at the moment to be of much assistance.”

“So I see.” She dropped her eyes back to the tactical map spread out before them. “But I still say that flank will be more effective if you pull it closer in to the main force.” She traced one narrow finger across her proposed adjustment to his lines. 

She had an open, confident air, as if the world regularly rearranged things to suit her choices and she was sure Sebastian would do likewise. He turned back to the map, somehow unwilling to dismiss this woman out of hand. Her suggestion had merit in terms of dealing with the bulk of the army, but it left a faint gap between his troops and the river. The nobles who opposed him would see that route to freedom, leaving him with a long, weary summer of chasing them all down.

Unless… hm. He could send his reserve cavalry to plug that gap once it became necessary. The chance of escape might even work to his advantage, luring the enemy leaders from behind their infantry to a place where they could be more easily cornered. It was a fast, elegant solution to his problem, and he wondered why none of his generals had spotted it.

He didn’t realize he’d voiced the question aloud until she answered. “I likely have more experience at this sort of thing than they do, after fighting off darkspawn armies at Denerim and Amaranthine.”

Sebastian’s weary mind was still quick enough to make the connection. A female warden, about his age, who’d gone through the Blight and was stealthy enough to enter his camp without being announced? He came to his feet and bowed a little more deeply than their respective ranks might merit. “Lady Cousland.”

“Mira, please.” She held up a hand to stave off any further formalities.

“Lady Mira,” he replied, emphasizing the honorific. “I hope you’ll forgive my poor manners.”

She laughed at that, making a bright, hearty sound that would better suit a barroom or campfire than the timid court functions appropriate to her station. “I just sneaked past your sentries to critique your battle plan, so your manners are hardly the ones in question.”

“Aye, there is that,” he said with a smile. “If you make yourself at ease, my lady, I’ll be with you shortly. But first I’ve a set of orders to revise.”

***

Mira seated herself on a cushioned stool and inspected the tent while Sebastian went back to work. The furnishings were comfortable but light; he hadn’t burdened his porters with needless luxuries. A set of pure white armor stood at the ready on a nearby stand. Her practiced eye picked out signs of recent repair, so the plate wasn’t only for show.

She’d heard good things about the prince in Kirkwall. People had spoken of his kindness and skill, and of a piety so strong he’d been reluctant to leave the Chantry and pursue Starkhaven’s throne.

Certainly the man seemed formidable enough in person. Between his strong jaw, gleaming armor, and that rich burr that roiled through his voice, Mira was half surprised the opposing army wasn’t fighting among themselves to be the first to kneel at his feet. Maybe they didn’t consider “impossibly handsome” a sufficient leadership trait, but the fact that he was pouring over the details of a battle that was all but already won spoke well of his potential.

This paragon before her wrote out several copies of the amended plan, then signed and sealed each one before excusing himself to deliver them.

Had he left her alone in his tent as a signal of trust? Did he assume she was too well-bred to snoop? Mira clenched her hands in her lap and counted back slowly from twenty until the urge to rifle through his belongings had passed. It would be simple enough, after all, to ghost back through his guards again later if she wanted to.

When Sebastian returned with a platter piled high with smoked meat and sweet fruit, it was clearly a reward for her virtuous behavior. She’d been living on road rations of late, and that was no kind of proper diet for a warden.

Mira claimed a portion that was more than ladylike, but there was no hint of judgment in Sebastian’s eyes. He simply waited, nibbling on a few pieces of the fruit, until she’d finally finished her meal.

“I do not wish to sound ungrateful for your counsel, Lady Mira, but I was under the impression that Grey Wardens are neutral in matters of state.”

She leaned in and tipped him a conspiratorial wink. “Just between us, I think that Weisshaupt has given up all hope of keeping me from playing favorites.”

He let out a small chuckle, and even his polite laughter was handsome. “I’ll gladly accept all the assistance I can get, though I’m sure you didn’t travel all this way for the sake of my war. So what is it I can do for you?”

Mira drew her bottom lip between her teeth. The questions she came to pose would take time to answer, and she hated to sour Sebastian’s mood on the eve of his victory. “It's nothing that can’t wait a day or two, until you’ve settled your war.”

The words earned her a searching look, probably because wardens weren’t known for their patience and consideration. But she told herself she’d get more out of him once he was less distracted. Once he was more comfortable with her presence. It was reason enough to stick around for a while.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sebastian and the Cousland Warden have several obvious parallels. They're both younger children of noble families that faced betrayal, and both ended up in vocations that they would not necessarily have chosen for themselves. But while Sebastian often shows an interest in moving on from his Chantry career, I often assume that a surviving Cousland heroine will go on to be a dutiful Gray Warden. Lately I keep being drawn to stories that offer her other options, so I thought it might be fun to throw them together.
> 
> The pace of this story may wind up feeling a bit slow; I'm envisioning these versions of the characters as being old enough to know what they want but wise enough to temper their expectations. The rating is based on what I have planned for later, and the tags will change as different elements come into play or other characters show up. I'd love to hear what you think.


	2. Chapter 2

By noon of the following day, it was over.

His cousin’s army held against the first charge, but that flanking maneuver Mira suggested threw them out of what little order they’d managed to maintain. After that, it didn’t take long to achieve a total rout.

Mira Cousland stood at his side through it all, accompanied by a grizzled old warhound that flopped at her feet after giving Sebastian a dismissive sniff. The dog fell into a light doze as Sebastian fired off orders, though its mistress kept a close eye on every rally and counteroffensive.

The warden herself made no further remarks on his strategy. She simply stood by, looking over the field as if she had the measure of each man and woman on it. And truth be told, she seemed to. She focused in on every possible turning point, every weakness in the enemy formations. There were times when she shot Sebastian a fierce smile, making him realize that whatever command he’d just issued would prove to be sound.

Quarter was given to every soldier who threw down their bows or blades. The officers would be pardoned as well, so long as they swore fealty to their new prince.

As for the nobles who’d funded and supported Goran, that was another matter. They were stripped of their lands and their titles. Those who’d been a part of the combat, who’d raised their swords against their rightful lord, were taken into custody. Some might be released in the investigations that followed, but most would never again breathe free air.

Sebastian’s demeanor was calm as he signed the detention orders, though he regretted their necessity. He’d guested with most of these people in his younger days, shared bread at their tables and stolen kisses from their daughters. But while the Maker smiled on mercy, He would not expect a Prince of Starkhaven to leave traitors at his back.

And to no one’s surprise, his cousin had been too much a coward to defend his claim in person. Each fresh report of the man conflicted with the last. He was behind Starkhaven’s walls or beyond its outer borders, holed up in his country estate or taking refuge in a cellar beneath the city.

For the moment, it scarcely mattered. Goran had no army and no options. Sebastian would find him.

***

The camp took on a jovial mood once night fell. Sebastian moved through the throng, gracefully accepting the praise and adulation of his soldiers. Everyone was swapping battle-tales that, in the decades to come, they would tell and retell until their grandchildren had them by heart. Mira had seen it before, which might be why she was the only person to notice the weary droop of Sebastian’s shoulders.

She permitted a final round of congratulatory toasts before resting a hand on his mail-covered arm and calling up her best Warden-Commander voice. “Excuse me, Prince Vael, I was hoping you could spare me a few moments.” Her tone was slightly husky, with just enough foreboding to leave the impression that great events were unfolding and Sebastian was a vital part of them. No one took it amiss when she swept off with the man of the hour.

He escorted her to the tent she had commandeered from some junior officer who’d fairly leapt at the chance to be of service. Her mabari, Smoke, entered with them, gave the surroundings a thorough inspection, then shuffled back outside.

“It looked like you could use a break.” Mira turned to Sebastian, shucking her Warden-Commander demeanor as if it were a cloak she no longer had need of.

He straightened his spine a fraction, only to give up the act as she waved him towards the junior officer’s chair. “I can’t stop thinking about what it cost to get here.”

“I know.” Mira sat on the nearby cot, thinking back to the first days after the Archdemon fell. She’d made so many tough calls, so many sacrifices, that it had been hard for her to feel much of anything once it was over. But everyone expected her to play the victorious hero. They cheered and clapped her on the back, and a statue had been funded before the rubble was even cleared away. It’s a wonder she hadn’t stabbed them all.

“My whole family is gone. Most of my friends are dead or scattered. This was the right path for me, but I can take no joy in it.” There was a question in his pretty blue eyes that he was far too considerate to ask. Mira decided to answer it anyway.

She produced a flask and sipped from it, welcoming the whiskey’s smooth burn. Then she handed the small metal container over. “You get past it by throwing yourself at the next task and then the one after that. And surround yourself with people doing the same thing. It won’t fix things, but it’ll help.”

He held her gaze while taking a long pull from the flask. “I’ll bear that in mind, my lady.”

Sebastian’s voice was rough with exhaustion and maybe something else besides, and Mira wondered, not for the first time, if she was truly willing to pick at his scabbed-over memories for her answers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sebastian and Mira have some stuff they need to work past. But if you're angst-averse, don't worry! There are definitely some lighter moments coming.


	3. Chapter 3

Two days later, Mira rode with Sebastian to the Vael family’s country estate.

The army had been split into smaller battalions; each would hold a key location while Sebastian established his reign. An advance squad of advisors and servants were on their way to prepare the palace at Starkhaven, so the new prince would stay at his country house until that work was finished.

As they walked their horses side by side, dropping back a bit from their small escort, Sebastian pointed out the landmarks of his childhood. He seemed to have a story for each hilltop and swath of forest, and it brought back a surge of similar memories from days spent wandering Highever with her brother Fergus.

Mira waved an arm at their surroundings. “It really is lovely out here.”

“Aye, it is,” Sebastian said. He ran his eyes slowly across the horizon before turning back to her. “During all my years away, I never stopped thinking of Starkhaven as home.”

It was a sentiment she could understand. “I’ve been to so many unbelievable places, seen things that were wonderful or horrifying or both at the same time. I’ve lived the kind of life that should only exist in stories. But there’s a part of me that wants more than anything else to be home again. To sit by the fire, to roam the hills. To build a life.”

“And because you’re a warden, all that is denied you.” His tone shifted into sympathy.

She shrugged. For all that she was the Hero of Ferelden, the stodgy old officers at Weisshaupt saw her as an inconvenience. She was too stubborn to control and too high-profile to force aside. If she announced that she wanted to retire from active service, they’d make a token protest and a few regretful noises, and then they’d throw a quiet party behind closed doors.

The truth was that returning to Highever, living among Fergus’s young new family, would be a constant reminder of things she’d given up on long ago. Mira had come to peace with the fact that she’d traded her future for Ferelden’s. She didn’t regret her choices, but that didn’t mean she wanted to stand by and smile as everyone else’s happy endings passed her by. It was the same reason she avoided court.

They passed a crossroads that boasted three straw-thatched cottages as well as a hostel, and Sebastian stopped to exchange pleasantries with the innkeeper. As soon as they dismounted, a tiny, barefooted girl thrust a bundle of wildflowers at Mira and then retreated behind her father’s knees. The child wouldn’t venture out again even for Smoke’s best “harmless puppy” impression, but Sebastian soon had her laughing, riding horsey-back with her skinny arms around his neck while he toured the village. By Mira’s count, it had taken him three sentences.

It was all so blasted charming.

She’d expected to find him dull and dutiful, bearing as little resemblance to his golden reputation as Mira did to her own. But there was a spark in this man that ran deeper than his princely good looks, some sense of sincerity and consideration that bubbled out with every word and deed.

Sebastian’s scouts had cleared these roads, but Mira found herself wishing for bandits. She wanted a pack of Goran loyalists to ambush them, or maybe a rabid bear. She wanted something to think about other than the way his eyes gleamed as they topped each new hill or how his accent thickened the closer he got to home. She wanted something to distract her from the shy pride he took in showing her his lands.

They crested yet another hilltop, revealing a sprawling stone house in the valley below. He grinned and nudged his horse into a canter, and Mira let out a soft sigh. Her pleasant interlude was nearly at an end.

***

Sebastian offered a silent prayer of thanks as he pushed open the large oak door. He was home at last.

He’d probably spent more nights in the massive palace in Starkhaven itself, especially once he was old enough to value the pleasures of city life. The country house was the heart of his family though, and they came here as often as they were able. He’d learned to ride and fish and hunt within sight of these walls, and this was where his grandfather had taught him the bow. It had been a place of warmth and happiness once, and Sebastian hoped that, in time, he could recreate that atmosphere.

A white-haired matron stepped forward to greet them. The lines and furrows of her olive skin were deeper than they'd been when he left, but her warm hazel eyes were as clear as ever. She moved to begin a curtsy, but he stepped forward to drop a kiss on her cheek instead.

“Off with ye, boy,” she said, using a gruff tone that hardly matched her gentle expression. “I see all them years away haven’t made a bit of change in yer manners.”

Sebastian gave a hearty laugh as he sidestepped the swat she aimed at him. “Your pardon, Madam. May I present Mira Cousland, Warden-Commander of Ferelden and Arlessa of Amaranthine. And Mira, this is Nan Sinclair, mistress of all you see before you.”

“A pleasure to meet you,” Mira said, exchanging nods with the older woman.

“Don’t you listen to him, my lady, these days I’m mistress of the nearest comfortable chair. Oh, I keep a hand in, aye, just to see that the young ones are up to standard. But I’m mostly retired. Just stirred myself today so that himself would come home to a familiar face.”

Whatever response Mira tried to make was swallowed up as the gregarious housekeeper whisked them off to the family parlor at the back of the house and called for scones and tea. After enshrining the pair in matching armchairs, Nan excused herself to see that everything else would be made ready for their stay.

“My old room will be fine, Nan,” Sebastian called after her. He’d be expected to take over the Prince’s chamber eventually, but it wasn’t a task he cared to face tonight.

“That woman is a force of nature,” Mira said, sipping her tea from one of the stoneware cups that Sebastian’s grandmother had received as a wedding gift.

“Aye,” he said softly, wiping a speck of road dust from the corner of his eye. “And I am happier than I can say to find she’s still here. I’d heard that Goran was none too gentle with some of our retainers at the palace.”

Mira’s face took on a faraway look, and he remembered that her family’s seat had also fallen victim to violent betrayal. Being here with him, watching him face his past, was likely stirring those memories. He wouldn’t press her to speak of it, but it also wasn’t in him to behave as if he hadn’t seen her pain. Sebastian reached over to grasp her hand and give it a slight squeeze, trying to explain without using the words that if she needed to talk, he would listen.

She came back to herself, slipping on a small tight smile as she smoothly changed the subject to ask about his plans for the next few days. There would be letters to write and reports to read through tomorrow, but he suggested a hunt for the day after. It would certainly be better than sitting idly by while he waited on responses from his couriers.

Smoke, seated at her feet, made a happy yip at the proposal, so the matter was considered settled.


	4. Chapter 4

Some thoughtful soul had left a clean nightshirt in Mira’s bedchamber, so she changed and brushed out her hair before giving the room a more thorough perusal. The furniture was solidly built, accented with fabrics that were tasteful but also hard-wearing. A large bookshelf, dedicated mostly to histories of the Free Marches, dominated one wall.

Mira grabbed the first volume that caught her eye and stretched sideways across the sinfully large bed. The book she’d chosen, about the long-ago Blight that had ended at Starkhaven’s gates, was fascinating. She especially liked the parts about griffons. The exhaustion of her recent travel began to close in, but surely she could make it through one last chapter before the candles failed and it was time to climb beneath the covers…

Her eyes drifted shut, and then Highever was burning. The rolling hills of her homeland were a blight-struck ruin as the dragon screamed overhead, leading its army on to some fresh target. She hadn’t been able to save it after all; this was just one more failure to bear. Alistair shouted at her before the Landsmeet while Loghain shoved her aside to strike at the dragon’s heart. Anders held out his bloody hands as she turned away. The shades of her family looked on mutely while their castle crumbled.

Even through the fire and terror of the dragon-dream she heard the soft click of a latch. Someone had entered her room. Mira rolled away from the door, gathering her legs beneath her even as she realized she’d woken. Her blades were on the other side of the bed, too far to be of any use, so she sprang at the intruder bare-handed.

He took her first punch in the gut and swept her into an odd grapple, seizing her around the waist to trap her fist between them while reaching out for her free hand. It might have been an effective hold against an untrained target, but she could slip it, could stomp on his foot or knee him, could drive her forehead up into his nose. She was about to try some combination of those when she realized her assailant was speaking, murmuring in some language she couldn’t understand even though the accent and the voice were familiar.

 _Maker’s balls_. She stilled at once. Sebastian loosened his grip but he didn’t let go, holding her close, keeping up a steady stream of reassuring nonsense while the nightmare faded. She wanted to nestle against him and lose herself in the words, but she stepped back as soon as her shoulders stopped shaking.

His sea-blue eyes were wide with concern. “I didn’t know they’d put you in here. I am so sorry to have frightened you.”

“I was dreaming of the Blight again,” Mira said, unsure of how to explain her reaction. “And any reminder of those days makes me jumpy.”

Sebastian put a comforting hand on her arm. “It sounds as if such vigilance has saved your life on more than one occasion. Since it’s kept you safe long enough for us to meet, I can only be glad of it.” His voice was soft and utterly sincere.

Mira wasn’t in the mood to talk about her past; though he was the first man she’d met who might truly understand it. She didn’t want to talk about much else either, not with Sebastian so close. He smelled like pine soap and old leather, and he was looking at her with a quiet intensity that made her face feel hot. Quickly, before giving herself a chance to think better of the impulse, she moved forward again and stretched up to press her lips against his.

His hands clutched tight on her hips for the barest instant, and then he gently pushed her back. “Mira…”

She turned away, wanting to run or maybe lock herself in the wardrobe to keep him from seeing her embarrassment. “You’re right, that was a bad idea. I’m sorry.”

He darted in front of her, faster than a man that size had any right to be, and then he tipped her chin up with one calloused thumb and forced her to meet his gaze. “I think it was a wonderful idea. But unfortunately I am not able, for the moment, to pursue it.”

Sebastian took her hands in his and led her to a high-backed wooden bench before he continued. “When I served in the Kirkwall Chantry, I broke my vows to pursue the people who murdered my family. I spent years after that lapse trying to rededicate myself to my faith. Now that I’m ready to become the prince my people deserve, it’s especially important for me to go about this transition in the proper way.”

Mira searched his face as she realized what he was trying to tell her. “So you still consider yourself bound by the vows of your priesthood?”

“Aye,” he said, raking a hand through his mussed hair. “It’s an unusual situation to be sure, but I’ve written to the Divine asking for counsel. I feel sure she’ll allow me to leave the Chantry. Until that day comes though, I am not free to act as I might wish to.”

His eyes scraped down her body, showing an open appreciation that made her shiver. It was all so unfair. Mira was not the kind of woman to lose her head at the first blush of infatuation, nor was she one to press her attentions where they weren’t wanted. But if he was determined to sit here and chastely hold her hand as if they were under the eyes of the fiercest of chaperones, then he shouldn’t _look_ at her like that.

She made some fumbling reply. _Of course, Sebastian, I understand completely. Don’t think any more of it. Please go, quickly, so I can toss and turn for the rest of the night and torture myself with thoughts of your lips on my skin_. By the time he finally made an apology-laden farewell, she wondered if that letter from the Divine could be expected any time soon.

***

Sebastian fled from the room as if her hound was at his heels, forgetting entirely the book he’d gone there to retrieve.

He’d behaved like a fool in these past few days, neglecting every standard of propriety. Had he really been gone so long that he’d forgotten how to be a gentleman? He’d arrived home for the first time in over a decade, accompanied only by an attractive noblewoman who had no escort of her own. True, he’d only been thinking about the pleasure he took in her company, but that’s not what the household would see.

Of course Nan had put Mira in one of the family rooms, conveniently close to Sebastian’s own, rather than giving her a suite in the more remote guest quarters. Half the staff was probably taking bets on whether he planned to marry her or merely keep her as his mistress. It would take careful handling to keep Starkhaven’s gossips from damaging Mira’s reputation.

He could fix this. He dashed off a letter to send with the morning post, though the rest of the necessary correspondence could wait until tomorrow.

With his immediate fears put to rest for the moment, Sebastian’s thoughts soon turned back to that kiss. What had she meant by it? Maker knows, there was a time that he would have taken her straight to bed, thinking of little more than their passion. But he was a different man now, and Mira deserved more consideration. It was almost a relief to be forced to put the matter aside.

Still, he had to admit that the sight of her, unselfconsciously graceful in that scanty nightshirt, had stirred something in his blood. And somehow that feeling was only spurred on by the fact that she’d hit him nearly hard enough to crack a rib; the mark from her small fist would develop into a spectacular bruise by morning. Yes, that kiss was something to consider carefully, once he’d had time to pray. And perhaps to take a very cold bath.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope that Sebastian's priorities seem natural enough at the end of this part. There's something really fun to me in the idea that, despite knowing that she's a total badass who's roughed it with wardens and soldiers, he would be protective of her reputation and think of that before his own desires.


	5. Chapter 5

He spent the next day in his father’s old study. Most of the time was devoted to tax and expense reports; the situation was worse than he had first suspected. It would take him at least a year to begin to set right the mess Goran had made of the city’s finances, and that was assuming that foreign banks could be persuaded to extend Starkhaven any further credit.

Sebastian also sent out a wave of letters to complement the one he’d written the night before. Soon everything would be as it should.

It wasn’t until dinner that he finally saw Mira. He worried that those moments in the dark of her room would hang awkwardly between them, but she chatted lightly away as if nothing had happened. Perhaps, for her, very little of significance had?

He excused himself just as they finished the meal, announcing his intention to get a full night’s sleep before the promised hunt. Mira decided to retire as well, and of course her room, which a lifetime ago had belonged to his brother, was across the hall from his.

After he walked her to her door, she reached out and plucked at his sleeve. “Sebastian?”

“Aye?” His throat felt dry and tight.

Mira wetted her lips with the tip of her small pink tongue. “Sleep well.”

“And you, my lady,” he said. He looked at her for a long moment, not wanting to turn for those last few steps to his own quarters. “Should you dream again, should you have need of me…”

“I’ll come.”

He nodded, though he also knew that she wouldn’t be crossing that hallway over a nightmare. Mira Cousland struck him as the kind of woman who didn’t ask for help until it was well past time for it, but all he could do was make the offer. He entered his room, closed the door behind him, and leaned against it.

He needed to pray again.

***

Mira came down the next morning expecting their hunt to include the usual jangle of hounds and retainers, so it was a pleasant surprise to find Sebastian alone in the breakfast room. They dined on bread and cold ham before setting off on foot. He carried only his bow and a single long knife. The bow wasn’t her own weapon of choice but she borrowed one anyway; she could wield it well enough to avoid embarrassing herself.

As they tromped across his back lawn, she ventured a question. “How did you convince the guards to let us out unsupervised with your cousin on the loose?” Considering that Goran was still a threat, this level of royal privacy felt like a minor miracle.

He squared his shoulders and answered her with a tone of mock reproach. “It’s hardly their place to forbid me from hunting, my lady.”

“Ah,” Mira said. A smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. “So you didn’t tell them you were leaving the house.”

“I left a note.” He winked at her and then quickened his pace towards the tree line.

_Poor Sebastian_ , she thought as they entered the forest. He’d grown up as a younger son in a well-loved dynasty, with all the frustrations and freedoms that entailed. And then as Brother Sebastian, he’d still been able to move about Kirkwall so long as he tended to his duties. He was about to come under a far greater degree of scrutiny, and he knew it.

Smoke ranged ahead of them, pausing here and there to cast baleful looks at his two-footed companions, who kept talking and spooking all the game. Mira supposed she should take the hunt more seriously for her mabari’s sake, but it was too nice a day to skulk.

And Sebastian didn’t seem any more inclined than she was to keep quiet. He stepped reflexively over the dry leaves and twigs in their path, but his frequent laughter rang boldly through the trees, stretching to fill the wide-open space. He led her off the main trail, padding down a smaller, twistier track that ended in a clearing. A rocky brook burbled through the break in the trees, emptying into a broad pool that reflected the puffball clouds passing overhead.

Smoke flushed a bevy of quail from the bushes that lined the little spot. The birds burst into the air in a rush of feathers, but neither hunter had a bow at the ready. At the Smoke’s indignant huff, Mira finally took pity on him. “Go on then, boy. Try your luck on your own.”

As the dog grumbled off, Sebastian shook his head. “I’m afraid your mabari doesn’t think much of my hunting skills.”

“He’s never understood that sometimes humans say ‘hunt’ when we mean ‘get the hell away from our duties for an afternoon.’”

Sebastian laughed again, and Mira realized just how much she liked the sound of it. “Aye,” he said, gesturing at the clearing. “When we came here as boys, we were often more interested in swimming than in filling our game bags.”

She raised a brow. “And are we swimming today?”

“If you like,” he said with a shrug. “It’s deeper than it looks, though.”

Mira grinned, sat on the grass, and began to pull off her boots. Sebastian turned his back and did likewise, giving her privacy to disrobe without making a show of it. Once she’d shucked off everything but smalls and breastband, she waded into the pond.

It was colder than she expected, so she immersed herself as fast as possible to adjust to the chill. She paddled out from the bank and dove, surprised at how quickly the silty bottom dropped out of reach. When she broke the surface, Sebastian was swimming out towards her with smooth, powerful strokes.

She stared. She couldn’t help it. His compact frame was packed with hard muscle, defined from years of archery practice and highlighted by the water streaming from his pinkish pale skin. His hair had gone dark from the water, more of a rusty brown than his usual auburn, but she wanted to twine her hands in it all the same. He stopped just out of arm’s reach and grinned at her, so she decided that her face probably wasn’t showing the raw surge of lust that clenched tight in her gut.

Mira knew she was being ridiculous. His build was similar to Nathaniel’s, and the sight of her fellow warden’s bared arms had never set her blood burning. She pushed the sensation aside. _Just pretend he’s Nathaniel_. It helped a little.

It also helped when Sebastian splashed a cascade of water directly into her face. She spent the next few minutes wreaking glorious vengeance, skimming her arm across the surface of the pond in angles precisely calculated to drench that smirk off his face. Once he finally begged for mercy they treaded water for a time, and then he taught her a blind chase game he’d played as a boy. She was just working out a reliable strategy when she launched herself into him sooner than expected, planting both hands against the firm planes of his chest.

If this was one of the daydreams she’d recently been entertaining, she knew exactly what ought to happen next. Instead, she paddled back a stroke and opened her eyes. “I win.”

“Why am I starting to think you usually do?” His accent drew the words out into languorous sounds, and Mira dipped her head beneath the cool water once again.


	6. Chapter 6

Later they sat on the bank, their clothes sticking lightly to their still-damp bodies, and Sebastian contemplated the nature of sin.

Grand Cleric Elthina had believed that sin-in-thought was nearly unavoidable; she said that what a person did in response to temptation was what mattered. But Sebastian knew he was hardly acting as he ought to. He shouldn’t, for example, have been cavorting in the water with a woman that he desired.

He would have avoided this kind of situation once, knowing nothing good could come of dwelling on things he couldn’t have. In a few short weeks though, a month at the outside, there might be an end to his service. An end to his vows. He couldn’t behave as if he had already been released from the Chantry, but he was also unwilling to hold himself entirely apart from Mira, to build a distance that he wouldn’t need to maintain.

Wouldn’t. Couldn’t. Shouldn’t. The words had defined his existence for so long, chafing and comforting him by turns. The idea of living with fewer restrictions on his behavior was both heady and utterly terrifying.

Sebastian turned his attention back to his companion. “If you were expecting a proper hunt today, I hope you aren’t too disappointed.”

“Not at all. This has actually been quite restful, and I can’t complain of the view.” The words came out in a heated drawl, and her hazel eyes were fixed on him rather than the scenery. Then she gave her head a quick shake. “Uh, sorry.”

“Whatever for?” As a prince and a gentleman, he ought to have let the moment pass. But Sebastian was feeling downright rebellious.

She shifted her eyes to her folded knees. “Because you have that whole priesthood thing, so I’m not being exactly fair.”

He sighed, realizing it was also unfair to tease her. “Mira, there’s no part of a vow of chastity that prevents me from accepting or enjoying a compliment. I want to spend more time with you. And maybe I can’t express that physically right now, but I like hearing that you feel the same way.”

She glanced back up at him again. “It’s terribly awkward, though.”

“Aye, it is,” he said, holding her gaze. “But I can handle it. I don’t want you to tiptoe around me or to feel as if you need to guard your tongue. The obligations that I took on… they’re my responsibility.”

Mira nodded, but she still looked less than convinced. He was determined to wipe that doubt from her face, to leave her with the certain knowledge that she didn’t need to stifle herself for his sake.

Sebastian dropped his voice into a throatier purr that he hadn’t used in a very, very long time. “I’ll be thinking less than pure thoughts about you in any case, which means you may as well act as you please.”

She lifted her chin, her lips parting slightly before she spoke again. “So I’m officially allowed to flirt?”

“Allowed? Let’s say required,” he said, trying to push them back into the playful mood they’d shared in the pond. “Consider it the price of my hospitality. If you don’t leave me red-faced and stammering at least once a day, I’ll have you put out of the house.”

“Oh, I think you’re going to regret that, my Prince.” Her tone was ominous, but the spark was back in her eyes. Sebastian knew he was walking a dangerous line, but he felt sure Mira Cousland was worth it.

“No, my lady. I don’t think I will.”

***

They returned to the house with only the pair of rabbits that Smoke had managed to catch on his own. Nan praised the mabari and lured him off to the kitchen for a ham bone, all while avoiding the subject of why their hair was damp.

Mira headed to her room to freshen up for dinner while she tried to make sense of the day. Sebastian was devastatingly attractive, wickedly clever, and he cared for his people deeply. His upbringing and life experiences helped them to understand one another. And best of all, his celibacy was apparently a temporary condition.

The problem was that she hadn’t come here for any of that. She’d spent the entire past week neglecting her goal, putting off the unpleasantness again and again for the sake of his pretty eyes or his kind smile. She’d long since decided that she couldn’t just hurl her questions at Sebastian without telling him a few truths of her own. And once he knew what she’d done, what she might have prevented, it might change things between them. _All the more reason to get this over with_.

They had rabbit stew for dinner, scooped from their bowls with slices of fresh-baked bread. She ate quietly, focused on gathering her thoughts. Sebastian invited her to his study for another glass of wine, and after stoking up the fire, he sat beside her.

“So,” he said, turning to face her after they’d settled. “You’re finally ready to ask me about Kirkwall. And about Anders.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one's a little short, but it felt like a better breaking point than going straight into all. that. angst.


	7. Chapter 7

“I need to know about Anders, about what happened before he did what he did.” Her voice was firm and even. If Mira was surprised that he’d guessed her purpose, she didn’t show it.

“Why are the Grey Wardens so interested?”

“To be perfectly honest, they aren’t,” she said, fixing him with a level gaze. “They want the basic facts of course, but I picked up enough of those in Kirkwall, once I managed to convince a few of your old friends there that I wasn’t looking to blame the Champion for any of it.”

“Aye,” Sebastian said softly. He pictured Hawke’s face, seared with anguish as she passed sentence on the man she’d loved like a brother. “When it comes to Anders, every one of us would seek to protect her.”

Mira nodded. “I’ve got enough to make the Wardens understand that he acted alone. I even drafted the report already. My interest beyond that, well, it’s personal.”

It made sense. Anders had been a Gray Warden back in Ferelden, so of course she would have known him. But to come all this way, to have such an interest in his fate… “He was special to you?”

“He was one of the first Wardens I recruited, and he helped me save Amaranthine when the darkspawn attacked it after the Blight. It sounds almost as if my Anders was an entirely different man than the one you knew, though.”

That was just like an abomination. No matter what its original intention, the spirit in Anders had twisted him, had driven him relentlessly towards its own goals. The spirit hadn’t cared about human relationships or frailties. It had barely seemed to care about Anders himself, based on how often the mage seemed exhausted or poorly fed.

Sebastian bowed his head. He’d known this moment was coming, the time when Mira would ask her questions, get her answers, and have no further reason to stay. “I’ll tell you anything you wish to know,” he said. “But I’d ask that you remain in Starkhaven until the coronation. Even though I’ve won the war, my reign won’t be secure until I’m crowned. I could use an extra set of friendly eyes watching my back.”

She bit lightly at her bottom lip while considering the offer. If she couldn’t accept it, or if she just didn’t want to, he’d give her what she came for in any case. But he’d seize on the chance to keep her close for a little longer.

To his great relief, Mira agreed to his terms. He began to speak of his association with Hawke, of how she and her friends had helped him avenge his family against the mercenaries and the demon-ridden noblewoman who’d hired them. He told her about some of the challenges he’d faced at the Champion’s side, raiding bandits and slavers, and about the time he’d refused to subject himself to the fade even for Hawke’s sake. He kept his tales succinct, and she didn’t interrupt.

He had hardly been close to Anders, but he gave over whatever small memories he could: evenings at the Hanged Man, seeing injured friends to the clinic, and disagreements over theology. He skipped the rumors and innuendo to stick with what he knew, though what he knew was incongruous enough. The abomination who cared for refugees of a homeland he scarcely seemed to miss. The thinker whose passion overtook his logic unless he was reading directly from an ink-stained copy of his manifesto. The hardliner rebel who often skipped his own dinner but fed half the cats in Darktown.

Mira sat, paying close attention through it all. Her breath hitched at the occasional detail, always small things, about cats or quips, which must have reminded her of the man he’d been before merging with Justice.

About the spirit itself, Sebastian was largely silent. He knew that Hawke considered it different from a demon. He was willing to concede the point, to admit that perhaps the man and spirit, each harmless on their own, had somehow corrupted each other. But no matter what its origins, Justice had become a force of evil in the world.

Finally, he told her about that last, bloody day he’d spent in Kirkwall. He recited the bare facts almost coldly, as if they’d happened to someone else. He remembered the rage, the helplessness, the bewildering sense of loss. He remembered the shameful satisfaction he’d felt as Hawke knifed her best friend in the back. He didn’t speak of those things, but as Mira put her small hand on his knee, he imagined that she understood them anyway.

When he finally went silent and dared to look at her, Mira’s eyes were wet with tears.

***

Once again, her actions were a pebble tossed in a pond, carelessly spilling ripples to the opposite shore.

She was confident enough in the choices she’d made during the Blight. They were hard, yes, but she’d saved more people than she’d failed. But in the aftermath of that victory, things seemed to go awry.

First there was the wedding, an alliance made in haste and desperation that wrecked her dreams for the future. She’d been placed at the head table during the feast, forcing a small smile while the banquet hall swirled with gossip and the groom refused to look at her. The coronation was similarly awkward because Alistair actually had to speak to her, to formalize their agreement that Amaranthine would go to the Wardens.

And when she arrived at her new posting, there was still no chance for peace. She threw herself back into battle with raw recruits and whatever forces she could scrape together locally. You’d think that after the Blight War people would be more willing to help her, but she still had to run petty errands for half the damned arling to get anything done. Between the scarce resources and constant issues with personnel, it was almost enough to make her miss the days when all she’d had to do was prod everyone into honoring their old treaties.

Anders had been a bright spot in those days, always ready to lighten the mood or to flirt just casually enough to ensure he wouldn’t be taken seriously. But when he’d needed her the most, she let him down.

Sebastian was still by her side, watching her think through all that he’d said, and a cold knot formed in her stomach. She owed him an explanation. She’d handled this all wrong, too caught up in her own selfish wishes to realize that all their smiling and teasing would only make this moment harder.

“There’s something you need to understand about the Wardens,” she began, wetting her lips. “We do whatever is necessary. We take in anyone that might be useful.”

“The way you worked with General Loghain, even after he tried to kill you.”

“Exactly,” she said, deciding not to dwell on that particular example. “When I met Anders, a group of Templars was trying to drag him back to the circle and make him tranquil. I conscripted him instead. Later on, I accepted the service of a spirit trapped in the body of a dead man. Together they helped me to save Amaranthine, but in the end, I couldn’t protect them.”

Sebastian stared into the fire; his face was a flat, unreadable mask.

“I thought if I learned more of their time in Kirkwall, I could figure out how I’d gotten everything so wrong. But maybe the answers don’t matter. All those lost lives will be on my conscience either way.”

He turned to her, canting his head to the side. “You believe that what Anders did was your fault?”

“How can it not be? I spared his life, or at least his magic. I introduced him to Justice. I decided not to go after them when they fled.” Her voice broke over the words.

“Mira, look at me,” he said, setting a hand at her cheek. Those impossibly blue eyes held nothing but compassion. “Anders was responsible for his own behavior. He decided to merge with Justice, and together they chose violence over the slower, harder path of peaceful change.”

She shook her head. “I should have stopped it.”

Sebastian stretched his arm around her, pulling her against his side. “I knew what he was and I didn’t report it. Hawke helped to hide him for years. He walked through the Gallows by her side, staff in hand, and the Templars there did nothing. There were dozens of times that he might have turned aside from his path, but it wasn’t to be. It’s time for us to move on, to deal with what he’s done to our lives as best we can.”

She huddled against his warmth, trying to cling to that new perspective while he calmly stroked her hair. They sat that way for the rest of the night, only parting to snatch a few hours of sleep as the sky grew lighter with the impending dawn.

For the first time in months, there were no dragon dreams when Mira closed her eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now that The Doom That Is Anders isn't hanging so heavily over their heads, the tone of this story is going to shift more firmly towards chastity-testing romance and Starkhaven drama.


	8. Chapter 8

Despite the flawed premise of Mira’s search for answers, Sebastian understood the impulse that drove her. He, too, had been wracked with guilt after the attack in Kirkwall.

It had taken him many long weeks of fasting and prayer before he’d come to the words he said to Mira last night: Anders was responsible for his own behavior. Yes, Sebastian could have tried turning him in, but at least some of the templars had already known of the apostate. Any investigation might have implicated Hawke or led her to do something foolish, destabilizing the situation further. Even taking Anders into custody may not have changed things for the better; the man had been damnably good at escaping and had known of at least one secret path from the Gallows. And most importantly of all, Sebastian knew that Elthina would not want him to spend his life dwelling on pointless recriminations.

So he’d returned home, determined to protect his people from the madness that was spilling out from Kirkwall and infecting the larger world. He would make Starkhaven into a bulwark against that tide of chaos.

Despite his late night he rose early, eager to get as much work done as he could before the plans he’d set in motion would demand more of his time. Mira appeared just after the noon meal. She greeted him with a nod and a subdued smile before planting herself in a nearby chair and opening the book she carried.

It ought to have been a peacefully domestic scene, but Sebastian’s awareness of her kept dragging his attention away from the stack of financial statements. The soft rustle of her clothing as she shifted in her seat, the wisps of hair that had worked free of her braid, the graceful tuck of one small foot beneath its opposite knee. No detail escaped his notice.

He thought back to their conversation in the forest, to his insistence that she treat him just as she would if he wasn’t still bound to the Chantry, and he could scarce believe that he’d spoken so. If he was this caught up by the simple fact of her presence, how was he going to resist any deliberate efforts to tempt him?

_Maker, give me strength_.

***

When a clamor rose up from the front of the house, Mira put her book down and Sebastian broke into a wide smile. He rose and headed for the sound, beckoning her to follow.

A large carriage had appeared in the drive, piled high with bags, boxes, and parcels of all descriptions. Some of the servants were carefully taking this profusion of luggage down under the supervision of a loud-voiced lady with the most remarkable wig that Mira had ever seen.

It was made of silky golden strands, piled high on her head and accented with blown glass butterflies. This spectacle was so remarkable that Mira forgot to feel the slightest bit stabby when the woman launched herself into Sebastian’s arms.

“Bastian, you devil!” She said, releasing him only to run her hands over his shoulders, pulling his wrinkled shirt into sharper lines. “It’s been far too long. Sorry I arrived so late, but MaMa didn’t want me to travel until we had word the roads were safe.”

“A wise decision,” Sebastian said gravely, steering the enthusiastic newcomer in Mira’s direction. “Chelle, I’d like you to meet Lady Cousland, Arlessa of Amaranthine and Warden-Commander of Ferelden. Mira, this is Lady Stoke, an old friend who worked as one of my informants in the days leading up to the war.”

Lady Stoke laughed, making a charming, perfect sound as she turned her attention to Mira. “That, my dear, is an overblown way of saying that I sent him long letters stuffed with court gossip.”

“Very _useful_ court gossip. I’d never have relied upon Lord Hawsley if you hadn’t reassured me of his intentions, and his infantry proved their worth in the fight.”

“Of course they did, Bastian, but thankfully all that unpleasantness is behind us now. I’m far more interested in the other matters we’ve been corresponding about.”

“Yes, well, hm.” Sebastian scuffed his boot against the gravel beneath their feet.

“But of course dearest, you must be amazingly busy, so perhaps Lady Mira and I can take ourselves off to get acquainted while you get back to sorting out the city.”

Sebastian’s brow furrowed even as amusement twitched at the corners of his lips, which led Mira to wholeheartedly endorse the suggestion. The two decided to walk in the gardens while Chelle’s many, many trunks were being carried to her room.

As they strolled through the hedges and fruit trees, the women were a study of contrasts. Chelle wore a dress of mauve crepe, while Mira felt almost mannish in her trousers and boots. Mira tensed against whatever backhanded compliment was likely to come; she could barely set foot in Denerim without ladies rushing to tell her how very _practical_ she looked. But instead Chelle asked a few astute questions about the battle.

They spoke of the area’s political climate and of wider events in Thedas, on which Chelle was very well informed. It would have been tempting to judge her on her formidable wig and impeccable manners, and Mira suspected that many of the nobles did exactly that. She was used to being around competent, insightful women, but many of those who moved through high society steered clear of any affectations that might appear frivolous. Chelle, on the other hand, seemed to embrace the sillier vagaries of fashion and to use them to her advantage.

After a few turns around the garden path, Chelle asked if they might sit on one of the stone benches bordering the ornamental pond. Then she turned to Mira with a glint of mischief in her light brown eyes. “Sebastian has asked me to be subtle, but you strike me as a woman who appreciates directness.”

“I have little patience for intrigues, at least not when among friends,” Mira said with a shrug.

That good-natured smile sprang back to Chelle’s lips. “And since I do hope we can become friends, I’ll be honest with you. Sebastian invited me because he realized that the two of you staying here, alone but for the servants, would compromise your reputation.”

Mira blinked. “He does realize that I’ve been living and traveling among the mostly-male Wardens for years now?”

“Ah, but we in Starkhaven hold the Gray Wardens in the highest respect. Any who tries to use _that_ service against you will look churlish. But now that this visit has become a social affair, they will expect you to play by society’s rules.”

While she no longer cared for dance of court politics, Mira remembered the steps well enough to follow along. “And as Sebastian’s guest for the upcoming festivities, a poor showing on my part could embolden his enemies.”

Chelle nodded. “Bastian’s main interest was to ensure his nobles had no cause to deny you the respect you deserve; he wished to avoid making a scandal. But now that I’ve met you, I believe we can do better. Between your quick way of sizing up a situation and my knowledge of the players involved, we can ensure our sweet Prince the kind of social success that will have the whole city falling in line behind him.”

That sounded a little far-fetched, but Sebastian trusted this woman and Mira had already committed to staying in Starkhaven until the coronation. Chelle's plan might even be fun. And if nothing else, it would give Mira something to think about beyond the compact shape of a certain archer's muscular shoulders.


	9. Chapter 9

The first step of the plan involved fittings.

Mira tried on dress after dress, standing patiently before the housemaids who tucked and pinned and made small chalk marks under Lady Stoke’s watchful eye. It seemed as if Chelle had brought half her wardrobe to be made over for Mira’s use.

The sheer number of gowns felt extravagant for two weeks of festivities, but apparently she’d be expected to change outfits several times a day. The whole process stirred up unpleasant memories of the court at Denerim. _Though it can’t possibly be that bad_ , Mira thought, _especially since Habren won’t be around_.

Chelle chatted mostly about Starkhaven, painting a clear picture of the lords and ladies who lived there. Mira memorized a few facts about each new name; nothing buttered up the average courtier better than making it clear you’d heard of them. And she had plenty of time to devote to fashion and politics, because word had gotten out that Sebastian was not on his way to the city.

A stream of messengers began to show up at the door, each with a letter or petition that just couldn’t wait. Most of this extra workload was forwarded ahead to Sebastian’s clerks, but there were a few items that needed his direct attention.

Three days after Lady Stoke’s arrival, the prince finally emerged in time to join them for dinner.

“Why who’s this?” Chelle teased, feigning a look of wide-eyed surprise. “Surely it can’t be our Bastian.”

Mira picked up the cue. “Of course it isn’t, Lady Stoke. You know quite well that the kingdom would collapse into ruin if he left his desk long enough for a meal.”

“Aye, I know,” Sebastian said, holding up a hand to forestall them. “I’ve been neglecting my duties as host. But I assure you, it won’t happen again.”

Chelle’s voice took on a bright tone of amusement. “I take it Nan reminded you of your manners?”

“She, ah, forbade the servants from bringing any more trays to my study.”

The two women exchanged a look and both burst into laughter. Sebastian sat at the table with a dignified air, ignoring them completely while he helped himself to a serving of cottage pie.

***

After dinner Mira excused herself to see that Smoke had been fed, watered, and walked. She’d join them for a drink or two after tending to her mabari’s care, but Sebastian had a subject he wished to broach with Chelle before the warden returned.

“You and Mira seem to be getting along well.” He poured her a small glass of the sherry she favored.

An indulgent smile spread across her narrow face. “Subtlety was never one of your skills, dear.”

He cleared his throat. “What are you up to, Chelle?”

“That’s better.” She leaned forward in her chair and her whole expression sharpened, dropping that air of bland sweetness that kept her less observant peers from truly seeing her. “You’ve asked me here to play chaperone, which means that you want Starkhaven to look on her as a lady rather than a warden.”

“Mira _is_ a lady, and she’s due all the respect that entails.” His brow furrowed into a set of shallow ridges. He’d started this conversation, but Sebastian didn’t think he was going to enjoy it.

She waved his observation aside. “Of course. She’s the daughter of a Teryn and a hero in her own right. But you don’t just want them to be polite to a foreign dignitary. You want them to accept her, to like her.”

 “I don’t expect you to understand.” How could she? How could anyone, especially since his motives were murky even to himself?

“When I first received your letter, I thought I understood all too well,” she said, drawling the words with an insinuation that he didn’t care for. “Considering a few of the old rumors about her, I feared that I might need to take a hand.”

He bit back the first reply that came to mind, but his accent roughened, dipping nearly into a growl. “Tread carefully.”

She raised one slim eyebrow before charging ahead. “It took scarcely a half hour for me to realize that the things they say about Mira can’t be any more reliable than the things they say about me. I’m still meddling, of course, to see that you don’t foul things up.”

Sebastian sighed. He’d called on Chelle because, when they were younger, she could always be trusted to keep his secrets. But she also had a tendency to try to arrange things, to push those around her into the paths she thought they should take. He’d hoped that his new station would keep him clear of her schemes. He should have known better.

“Oh Bastian, don’t scowl,” she said, taking a dainty sip of the sherry. “I haven’t done anything dire. It’s just that, well, I might have implied to Mira that her support could be crucial to shoring up your position at court.”

“What? Why?” Goran had been widely regarded as a disaster, and his strongest backers were killed or captured during the fighting. It was true enough that Sebastian needed to keep the nobles happy, but there weren’t any left who would openly dare to oppose him.

“She’s a woman of action, dear. How long do you think she’ll be content to lounge about as an honored guest? She needs to feel that she’s being of use, so I gave her a purpose in being here. And if she impresses your nobles in the process, so much the better.” She gave him a dazzling smile, utterly pleased with her reasoning.

He raised a hand to his temple, feeling a headache coming on. He abhorred Chelle’s methods. He wanted Mira Cousland to choose to spend more time in Starkhaven, and more time with him, of her own accord. But there was a secret, sinful part of him that was grateful for his old friend’s interference. Sebastian himself had pressed Mira to stay before answering her questions about Anders. Was Chelle’s small deception really so different?


	10. Chapter 10

By the time Mira returned to the dining room, Sebastian sat alone at the table.

“Chelle decided to retire early, and I wondered if I might walk you back to your room this evening,” he said, rising to his feet. A hint of color crept into his cheeks as he hurried to explain the request. “It used to belong to my oldest brother, Brendon, and I need to look through his things.”

She gestured at the last bottle of wine that had been set out with their meal. “Bring that along and you’ve got a deal.”

He grabbed the bottle and a pair of thin-stemmed glasses and then followed her up the broad staircase to the family’s private quarters. Mira unsuccessfully fought the impulse to put just a touch of extra sway in her hips. She knew it was childish. But he had, after all, told her to flirt all she pleased.

“So what are we looking for?” She cast a look back over her shoulder as she padded down the upstairs hallway.

Sebastian quickly flicked his eyes upwards to meet hers. “I stumbled across an irregularity in the family accounts yesterday; my parents made a massive donation to a small, rural chantry in the months before they were murdered. Father’s note about the payment indicated that it was made on Brendon’s behalf, but there was no real explanation in his files.”

“Which means you’re hoping to come across a journal, or maybe a ledger, with more information.”

“Aye.”  As they entered the room, he set the wine and glasses on a side table to begin his search.

She poured two glasses, claimed one of them, and folded her legs beneath her in a high-backed chair. Sebastian started with the contents of Brendon’s desk, feeling beneath each drawer and prodding them for false backs or bottoms. He made nearly as thorough a job of it as Mira herself had done earlier in the week, but he came away with only a stack of dry correspondence and tailoring invoices.

When he moved to the bookshelves, she tried to remember the exact nature of a chantry brother’s vows. She honored the Maker in her own general way, but she’d never paid much attention to the formalities. And somehow she suspected that Sebastian might disapprove of a legalistic approach to the definition of chastity.

He shifted his focus to an end table, and Mira let out a slight sigh. She thought about waiting, about approaching him later, book in hand, with some convenient excuse. But she didn’t want to go through all that nonsense with him. She was a sneak and a troublemaker and sometimes a bit of a liar, too. It was probably best for him to know that.

Mira got up and headed to the bookcase, gesturing for Sebastian to follow. She settled her hand on a thick piece of decorative molding and, after sliding her finger back to flick at the tiny latch, pulled it away from the shelf. The cavity behind that bit of woodwork was just the right size for the small leather tome that had been slipped inside.

Sebastian’s eyes went bright as he pulled the book from its resting place. “However did you find this?”

She shrugged and turned away. “I’m afraid I don’t have much respect for other people’s secrets. I didn’t read it though. The whole thing’s in code.”

“Thank you,” he said, stepping up behind her, putting both hands on her shoulders.

“For snooping?” She tilted her head up and back, surprised by the look of sincere appreciation on his face.

He nodded. “I’d never have noticed that panel. And whatever they were trying to hide… it feels important.”

She relaxed her body, leaning against his chest. “It must be strange to come across a fresh mystery about someone you lost so long ago.”

“To be perfectly honest, I’m a bit worried about what I might uncover. Part of me thinks I ought to leave this alone, to let the past stay buried.”

Mira shook her head, reminded of the way Alistair had kept his background to himself until they’d grown far too attached. “It’s always better to know, if only to keep somebody else’s secret from biting you in the ass.”

He shifted his hold on her, snaking those long arms lightly around her waist. “That sounds like the voice of experience.”

“Oh, it is.” His arms were warm and solid, but she soon stepped out of the embrace and reclaimed her wineglass. He picked up the other glass before following her over to the pair of matching armchairs that flanked the fireplace.

Sebastian took his seat and leaned forward a little, clearly curious about that cryptic admission. He didn’t press for more details, though. He just sat there, happy to listen but unwilling to push, waiting for her to either elaborate or change the subject.

It was a refreshing approach. Most of the people she’d met in recent years acted like they knew every single thing about her. Others thought nothing of bombarding her with ridiculously personal questions. There were times when it felt as if she were living under glass. Between his royal pedigree and his friendship with the Champion of Kirkwall, Sebastian would understand exactly what that was like. So he made his interest plain but then gave her space, letting her set the boundaries between them. He probably meant it to be reassuring, and it was. It also made her want to bury her tongue in his mouth.

She cleared her throat and asked him about the plans for the coronation instead. Maybe it wasn’t as stimulating as the topics she could broach once his dispensation arrived from Orlais, but it might, just maybe, keep her from thoroughly embarrassing herself. Again.

He switched topics with ease, describing the kinds of official events and private celebrations that could be expected. Mira sat back in her chair, drank her wine, and tried to focus on the words rather than the honeyed voice that delivered them.


	11. Chapter 11

Sebastian paced, making fast, jagged lines across the carpet in his childhood room. Each time he neared the window he paused for a moment, staring, wondering if there was just a trace more light in the sky. Wondering how much longer he could stand to wait before waking Mira.

He hadn’t slept. He’d been too wound up after leaving her, too caught up in wanting things he shouldn’t be this focused on. The little leather book had seemed like the perfect distraction. It was a slow, tedious process to write out the key of their secret-sibling code; he’d had little enough reason to dredge up those memories in recent years. But the alternating set of letter substitutions came back to him after an hour or so of effort, and the focus helped to clear his mind.

He’d very nearly set the book aside then. It was a curiosity, to be sure, but the pile of work on his desk seemed more pressing than stale family secrets. He decided to decode one quick page, then another. By then he’d read enough to know that he needed to keep going.

It was still obscenely early when he tapped at her door. He heard a sleepy, confused mumble, and he tapped again. Maybe he ought to have waited. Then the door opened.

Mira was wrapped in a coverlet she’d dragged from the bed, and her unbound hair spilled halfway down her back. She waved Sebastian inside, shutting and locking the door behind him.

“Tell me.” Her soft tone wouldn’t carry out to the hall.

He wondered just how frantic he looked, standing there unshaven in last night’s rumpled clothes. “I have a favor to ask. I know I haven’t the right, but there’s no one else.”

A spark of interest lit her eyes. “You read that book.”

“Aye, I read it.” he said slowly, searching for the right words. It was important that he make her understand. “I wasted years in Kirkwall, and now I may be too late. But I haven’t sorted out which of the guards can be relied on yet. Chelle would be willing, but she’d be worse than useless if there was danger, and there’s no _time_ to send for Hawke or Fenris.”

“I’m here, Sebastian. I’m with you. Just tell me what you need.” She spoke calmly but with authority, as if settling a balky horse.

He took a few deep breaths to compose himself. “There’s a small chantry. It's not too far from here. If we ride hard, we can be there shortly after the midday meal. I need to go.”

“Go and change then,” she said, crossing to her clothes chest. “I’ll meet you downstairs.”

“We’ll have to spend a night on the road, possibly in a public house.” As he said the words, Sebastian realized that he hadn’t considered the practicalities of such a trip.

Mira just shrugged. “I’ll pack a bag.”

“Wait, no.” He shook his head, cursing himself for a fool to even think of it. “We can’t share lodgings without an escort again. It isn’t proper.” He needed to leave straight away, but it would be better to risk blundering into a trap on his own than to expose Mira to the censure of his nobles.

She pursed her lips but didn’t argue the point. “So let’s take Chelle along. We can find an inn along the way, and we’ll be very properly chaperoned right up to the point where the two of us sneak off for a visit to your chantry.”

As a plan, it had potential. And the chantry was just off the best route to Starkhaven, so he’d add a small complement of guards and head straight for the capital afterward. A larger party would mean traveling more slowly, especially because they’d need to hold back to the pace of Chelle’s carriage, but he liked the thought of disguising his true purpose.

“Very well,” Sebastian said. He thought of one final complication, but walked quickly to the door before voicing it to Mira. “But since this was your idea, I’ll leave it to you to explain to Chelle that she only has an hour to pack her things.”

***

It was closer to three hours before they were underway. Sebastian sent a rider ahead to rent a set of rooms near the chantry that was his actual destination; another messenger sped towards the city to notify the palace of his early arrival. The announcement would throw the staff into an uproar, but Sebastian seemed too distracted to worry about his change of plans.

He still hadn’t shared his goal with Mira, and though they rode side by side, she didn’t really expect him to. There wasn’t much chance for private speech among the guards that flanked the party.

Mira was used to meddling in other people’s affairs, but that tended to involve taking over their troubles entirely. Someone brought her a problem and she dealt with it. She analyzed the situation, thought out the options, made the plans. This felt different, mostly because Sebastian wasn’t the sort of man who’d be left reeling by anything outside his experience. He gave her the luxury of offering quiet support, of helping without becoming solely responsible for the outcome of his predicament. It made for a nice change.

The sun slid below the hills just as they reached the inn. Mira handed her reins to the well-scrubbed boy that stood waiting, explaining that her mabari hound would also be bedding down in the stables. She preferred to keep Smoke in her own room while she traveled, but Free Marcher innkeepers sometimes frowned on the practice. And besides, leaving her dog out with the horses would make it easy for him to join them on Sebastian’s mystery errand.

The common room was practical and clean, full of oiled wood and polished brass that showed off the care taken by its proprietors. Mira, Chelle, and Sebastian had fresh bread and mutton stew while their guards tried to be inconspicuous. The prince put the barkeep at ease with his praise for their dinner, and he exchanged friendly greetings with several other patrons before buying two rounds of ale for the house.

Sebastian’s generosity set off a celebratory mood in the room. The locals were already calling for more ale, drinking further to the health of Good Prince Sebastian, and with luck the party would run late into the night. Their guards would be distracted, perhaps even caught up in the revelry themselves, and any stray sounds of their passage would be lost in the clamor.

Mira was thrilled; she couldn’t have asked for better circumstances for a late night jaunt. Then her co-conspirator turned to her with a wink and that slow, stunning smile. _Maker’s breath_ , she thought. _He did this on purpose. He worked the crowd up to cover for us_.

She’d learned a lot about Sebastian Vael since the night they met. He was kind, thoughtful, and cared deeply about his people. He was as disciplined as any man she’d ever known, and he bore up under pressure without giving way to despair. He was also too pretty to be real, especially with his shirt off. The combination was disarming, making him nearly irresistible. And now that he’d revealed a top-notch talent for mischief? Well she could drop that “nearly” from that equation.

It was all so very unfair.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay, I've been playing Inquisition and working on other projects. The biggest parts of this story have been outlined since last summer, so I won't be changing up my ending to line up with what we're told about the activities of a living Warden during the new game. Hope that doesn't throw anyone off, but it wouldn't fit the overall tone I've been aiming for.


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